The Joy of Being an Atheist

Being an atheist has a number of benefits.

To begin with, we do not need to kneel or bow to anyone or anything, or promise blind obedience and unwavering loyalty some creed or other. No beseeching or praying or begging.  No Lords, Masters or King of Kings stuff. As if we didn’t have enough of that here on earth.

Neither do we have to suffer the embarrassing U-turns that major religions have been forced to make as science progresses. Watching them squirm their way out of previously held ‘truths’ is excruciating. The world is the centre of the universe, and it is flat. Did I say that? I must have been misinterpreted.

And amongst atheists there is no sibling rivalry, no vying for positions as occurs with other popular belief systems. And the Oscar for Most Influential Religion goes to….

No plan B, either. No Afterlife or Paradise or Heaven to take the sting out of harsh reality. No mysterious explanation for the deaths of children in an orphanage blaze, or the massacre of innocents, no twisted logic or infinite wisdom in abuse or torture.

Just us, here and now, faced with human problems that demand immediate solutions. No excuses, no putting things off till the next incarnation, no God Willing or Inshallah. We take responsibility for our actions and our inactions. There is no-one else to blame.

And we get the holidays, too!

 

Let History judge us-

Let History judge us. We watch, literally, al Kashogi is dismembered in a Saudi embassy. We turn away as Putin annexes part of Ukraine and poisons opponents. We say next to nothing as Belarus is beaten into submission. The list is terrifying. There is no accountability. From Manila to Rio, dissident voices are silenced in the most brutal way imaginable.  We slide, bit by bit, into authoritarianism or worse, aghast yet passive. We are drifting into fascism once more, and still we do no more than lament.

Let History judge us.

 

Art and Moral Judgement

I have just read a review of a new book about The Who bassist, John Entwistle. Whilst recognising the quality of his playing, the reviewer spends more time casting moralistic judgements about the deceased’s behaviour than analysing his impact on modern music. He finishes with a lapidary ‘If Entwistle was the last of the great rock stars, then good riddance.’

Then there is the case of Woody Allen. He has been accused of child abuse. That may or may not be true – we, as the ignorant general public, cannot know. Yet there are those who have judged and sentenced him without trial. If he really committed those crimes, and there is evidence to prove it, then he must be made to face the consequences, naturally. But even if that did occur, does that mean that Annie Hall is now not worthy of praise?

Roman Polanski is allegedly another suspicious character. Does that reflect back on his art? Can we only accept the works of those who are morally beyond doubt? If we discover that The Voice had links to the mafia, can we no longer enjoy My Way? And as times change, and our social values with them, must we all readjust, reassess, pass judgement?

No artist is perfect as a person. Possibly their private lives are a mess, full of contradictions and inherited vices. But their art can transcend their frail humanity. Are we able to accept that, or are we all members of the Moral Police?